


Just Like You

by MukeSinner



Series: Album One-Shots (H&L) [6]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Breakup, Depression, Fanfiction, M/M, Multi, heartbroken louis, just like yoi, larry - Freeform, lostboys, louishateshimself, memmories, self doubts, tagstobeadded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 15:43:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MukeSinner/pseuds/MukeSinner
Summary: Harry and Louis are the same, and he misses him. Even though they have similar lives, their struggles are different and Harry only ever seen what happened in Louis’ other life because he read and believed the news papers. He didn’t care to ask for an explanation. This is Louis trying to apologize.





	Just Like You

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to, once again, clarify this is purely fanfiction and I’ve never intended to let on I know anything of their real story or do I own it in anyway. This is for fun, and that is it. Enjoy. Xx

Did Harry still remember him? All the good parts of him? Or were they now too stained and ruined by the newer him, the reckless version on himself, the one who didn’t care and dropped the one person who meant to world to him, through a song. Was all forgotten? Or was there still hope? Could he patch what he destroyed, sew it all together and pretend everything was alright when nothing truly was.

Brushing a hand through his hair, a nervous tick of his, Louis ignored the scolding he got from his nameless hairdresser and watched the lyrical video flash across the screen. He could hear the words, see the pictures paired with them, but why didn’t they match the ones flickering behind his eyelids with every blink? Why didn’t they match the story in his mind, the true reasonings for this song.

It was his voice, his words, his  _ life _ but he felt like an outsider. A critic who wasn’t all that fond of this man’s life.

_ It's the guy from the one band _

_ Cigarette in my left hand _

_ Whole world in my right hand _

His eyes fell to his empty palm, closing around the ghost of fingers still tickling the pads of his fingers. He felt so numb as he watched his fingers flex when they closed around nothing, and tried focusing back on the screen but everything was a blur now. Meaningless. Clumping together in one drawn out photo that held no significance in his life. 

Not when that hand was missing from his.

Not when the childish giggles weren’t ringing in his ears, a pattern on his wrecked heart.

They’d snuck out of the recording studio one day, just the two of them acting like love crazed adolescents who couldn’t bear a moment apart. The alleyway behind the building had been dark and secluded, fenced in to ensure they were safe, and their whispers wouldn’t slip through the cracks in the chainlinks despite the lightness each carefully worded promise held. 

He remembered it as if it was yesterday, the smoke thick tendrils in his lungs as his cigarette sat crushed between his pointer finger and middle finger on his left hand, his right hand occupied with the most important thing in this entire world; Harry’s hand. Larger than his own, but softer and much more delicate. The looks Harry kept on throwing at Louis held the weight of the world behind them, so innocent yet filled with love and now time was distorting his face.

Chipping away at his cratered smile, his shining eyes. A crack appearing in the flawless portrait with every day that passed.

His voice now an echoless, barely there whisper, that rang through Louis’ bones with remembrance without offering him anything to actually remember but the  _ pain. _

_ Twenty-five and it's all planned _

_ Night out and it's ten grand _

_ Headlines that I can't stand _

They’d had their entire life planned out before either of them even hit their twenties. They would come out when they were older, Louis twenty two and Harry twenty, giving each of them enough time to truly grasp their feelings and ensure the hatred and words from certain fans wouldn’t crush what they had. That they could survive  _ anything.  _ And the reality now, was they couldn’t even survive themselves. The pressure of an actual relationship, of  _ real _ feelings that wouldn’t just lessen or disappear as wrinkles appeared and fans left.

He even did a faux proposal, went as far as planning to entire night and getting down on one knee but Harry had laughed and declined. Saying an eighteen year old boy couldn’t possibly want to throw his life away for someone so young and innocent, so bland and average. But he wasn’t any of those things, was he? Louis hadn’t realized all he had when he had it, and now that he’d set it free all he had were those closed off memories, a filterless topic in his mind. Would getting married have saved them? Or made them lose themselves quicker than they had?

Did Harry know Louis had been serious then? That he had wanted to marry him with every single fiber in his body? Or did he know Louis’ faithfulness and love would sway in the future, and was he closing himself off from that kind of heartbreak? From allowing the short lad from Doncaster that kind of power over him?

Louis was convinced it was because of the article that came out just after they began One Direction, breathing light on all of his flaws, lighting up every dark corner of his life and not allowing him a chance to hide, to shuffle away the knowledge he wasn’t good or wanted and the article said just that. Said he had gotten famous by chance and was the least talented member of the band. Did Harry read it and believe it? Did he feel to same?

Did he believe every fucking article he read, and refused to be tied to Louis publicly or otherwise, marriage or public fucking dating, because he didn’t want his image to get tainted too?

_ But you only get half of the story _

_ The cash, and the cars, and the glory _

_ No sleep and we party 'til morning _

_ 'Cause nobody cares when you're boring _

Would Harry make the connections in this song and realize, in the lines between the lyrics, this was Louis singing to him? Displaying all his mistakes while maintaining a certain level of vagueness to hide a part of himself away, save himself from anymore pain. 

Would he realize that all those articles he’s read were false, conjured up by all the minds at modest to hide his sexuality, to ensure his image wasn’t tainted anymore than it already was? Would he know that the photos of him with random girls was staged at first, that the bars were simply for publicity, showing how reckless he was after his mums death, or does he believe Louis has always been unfaithful? Burying himself in a different pair of tits every night and hiding himself when he was with Harry?

Could he see how much Louis was hurting? That the alcohol was meant to initially take the edge off but was now the only thing keeping him sane and afloat. His literal bloodline. That the flashing lights were meant to hide him because they acted as a distraction. Blurry eyes couldn't focus long enough to truly see him.

Not that anybody had ever seen him like Harry had. 

And he’s convinced nobody ever will.

_ I'm just like you _

_ Even though my problems look nothing like yours do _

_ Yeah, I get sad, too _

_ And when I'm down I need somebody to talk to _

Where the fuck were Harry those nights Louis had called out to him? Lonely and in physical pain, albeit drunk, but his feelings weren’t muddled by the alcohol on those nights. He could feel everything and all he wanted was Harry and the man was instead with other people. Pretending their problems didn’t exist, that the world was full of butterflies and that death didn’t take a toll on Louis like it did. He didn’t want to face the reality and wanted to stay wrapped up in fantasy.

He couldn’t handle the fact that they were both breaking and he unknowingly shut Louis out when he was reaching for him. Begging to be seen for who he was, not who he was made out to be. He never asked about the articles he read, just believed them and believed Louis was a sleeze. He gave Louis to ammunition to hurt him and at the time, Louis was hurting too so he pulled the trigger and now, what as left of them, was splattered in the sky and twinkling at night. 

Saying all they couldn’t with words for the fear of being rejected. 

There was so many things left unsaid and promises unfulfilled, but who could possibly save them now. They’d both ran when the going got tough and now.

They were left bathing in the destruction.

_ Yeah, I feel the same as you do _

_ Same stress, same shit to go through _

_ I'm just like you _

_ If you only knew _

He wanted Harry in all the ways that Harry wanted him. Craved his presence like a drug and wanted to get drunk on him to the point he forgets his own identity. He wants to relationship, the communication, the happily ever after, but how often did any of those things happen. They had their happily ever after but lacked severely in the communication department, and in the end, when they tried to communicate, they just ended up hurting each other more than the words spoken were worth.

It was better to let Harry go and live his life to its full extent then be drug back by a man who did sleep outside the relationship, who had a kid from a one night stand when he’d been too lost in himself to know right from wrong, and who was now an alcoholic who spent more times in bars and clubs than he did at home. It was better for him to believe there were no more feelings, than to  _ know  _ Louis was doing this for his sake.

For their sanity.

To save themselves from each other.

Harry wanted perfect, and he wanted Louis, but the two clash and Louis would  _ never  _ be perfect.

_ If I had it my way, pub lunch every Sunday _

_ Cheap beer and it's okay _

He wanted a life filled with mundane things, wanted the simplicity and domesticity that clung to the last few years of his mother's life like clumped, crystalized water did to Harry’s long eyelashes in the winter. He could give up the bars, and the girls, and the friends if he got Harry, the Harry before Louis broke him, the harry who didn’t go around kissing talk show hosts and flaunting himself for all to see. He wanted the Harry only he ever got to see. The soft, sweet side, filled with so much life and love and dreams.

Everybody got that version now, so what was left for Louis?

_ I wanna lay where she lays _

_ I wanna stay in these days _

_ Gonna smoke and it's okay _

The photos hadn’t been published because the girl looked enough like Louis, just with longer hair, that they were convinced it was him and they’d just done a really poor job at masking his identity. He’d got a scolding for wearing proper disguises, and got told if he was going to sneak around to do it without the chance of getting caught and then he was shown the photos.

The photos modest had paid a pretty penny for to ensure they were never posted, never came to light, and Louis’ entire world crumpled around him in a cliche way.

He was Harry’s first for everything, the only one who ever had him in that intimate of a way and now, what they’d shared, was broken. Tainted by that girl and Louis felt as if he was suffocating. Harry truly wasn’t his Harry anymore and nobody in that meeting room understood the reason for the silent tears streaking his cheeks, didn’t understand why his voice went so thick as he battled his raging emotions.

That night, he went home and drank himself into oblivion.

The morning found him with a hangover, alone in bed, clinging to every article of clothing Harry had left behind.

Their scarce nights in this place a never ending film set on loop in Louis’ mind. 

That was the first night he wanted Harry back. That he bared his mistakes and realized everything he’d done wrong and took accountability for his actions. 

_ Every heart breaks the same _

_ Every tear leaves a stain _

_ Can't I just be the same? _

Modest was over the moon happy when they’d discovered the crack in Louis’ heart, and found out who was responsible for it. They exploited his breakup in a way nobody would ever truly understand or know, and immediately drug up his old, ‘love’ Eleanor for the nostalgia for the fans. Claiming it would improve ratings and sales during the hiatus. 

They owned him for a few more years, and could do with him as they pleased. Louis had no say, so he once again hid.

Ignored Harry

Blocked his phone number, and pretended he didn’t exist. That the swirl of sludge in his lungs was from cigarettes and not the knowledge he was physically dying without Harry.

No one understood why he was so hung up on Harry, because they all believed he was over him the day it began. Had fucked him out of his system and simply hung on to  _ ruin  _ Harry.

And it was because nobody got to see him.

All of him.

The better parts of him that sat twined in his heart with Harry, wrapped in that bubble wrap to protect and ensure it was never taken from him or seen. It was his secret: everything that scream  _ him. _

_ Let me be the same _

A plea that would go unnoticed, unheard, by  _ millions.  _

  
  


_ Meet me in the hallway _

_ Meet me in the hallway _

_ I just left your bedroom _

_ Give me some morphine _

_ Is there any more to do? _


End file.
